


your love learned to hold my head under a pillow

by metalmeisje



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Use, M/M, Prostitution, Slurs, dubcon, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmeisje/pseuds/metalmeisje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can offer you even more than this, you know,” Kirin says as Ridge is struggling to get his shirt on again, brow furrowed in confusion and disappointment as his high fades away faster than ever and a migraine is digging its claws into his brain. “Someone as talented as you deserves a little more, don’t you think?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	your love learned to hold my head under a pillow

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm throwing all my writing on AO3, I'm chucking this in as well. Based on a rather obscure AU of mine. Kirin is an asshole of the highest degree but that is apparently how I like him most :')

“You gonna pay up or not?” the man asks, and Kirin has to pour ounce of self-control he has into the exchange not to burst out laughing. Because honestly, even for a human this particular example is a sorry sight to see; hands buried deep in the pockets of his ratty jacket, ginger hair sticking to his forehead in wet strands and twitching as if he has somewhere else to be. Eyes darting everywhere but at Kirin’s face, unwilling to meet his eyes as he waits for Kirin to answer him.

It’s a rather pathetic sight, Kirin has to admit, but one he is intimately familiar with. He sees them a lot under the underpass, begging for scraps and quick fucks against the concrete for a tenner, sometimes even less; anything to get through another day. To get another fix to still the nerves that are so _painfully_ evident.

“Of course,” he drawls, reaching inside his own expensive coat and folding open his wallet. He counts out what he figures is the current going rate and then a little more, not even bothering to acknowledge the way his hands are being watched with growing eagerness. And when the man grabs the money from him with a sigh of relief, shoving it into his pockets before dutifully dropping to his knees, Kirin can’t help but chuckle. It’s an eerie sound, mostly drowned out by the rain that is still falling as if the world is ending, but the man is too busy trying to get his cold fingers to cooperate enough to wrestle open Kirin’s fly to notice.

And, admittedly, he must have had plenty of practice; he sucks Kirin off with enough faked enthusiasm that Kirin can almost believe he enjoys it, moaning shamelessly around the cock in his mouth and working eagerly to make sure that Kirin gets his money’s worth. Which is admirable, the way obscenity always is.

“Good boy,” Kirin smiles almost sweetly once he’s done, running sharp nails over the whore’s (because let’s call things by their proper name, shall we) scalp, the idle praise enough to make the man pause before he quickly scrambles to his feet and wipes his mouth.

“Sure thing,” he mutters, disbelief flickering in his eyes before it makes room for the kind of urgency you only see in addicts and he scurries off. Kirin watches him until he disappears from view, the figure shrinking into the distance with hunched shoulders and the rain beating down on a life already long down the drain.

Which leaves Kirin with a spark of curiosity that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

-

Ridge has to fold himself up almost uncomfortably so to make sure he fits in the small space between Kirin and the steering wheel. It digs into his back but he doesn’t seem to notice; any discomfort that Kirin thinks the slender man might feel has been easily extinguished by chemical happiness, Ridge’s pupils blown wide and drowning out anything but the eager submission that Kirin has come to like.

“You are so very good at this, aren’t you,” he mutters as he digs his nails in Ridge’s hips, lifting him up a little and guiding him until Ridge whines and throws his head back. “Such a filthy little thing, you are. That’s it, good boy. Are you going to be good for me?”

Ridge pants and squirms, making good use of what little space they have available like this as he wraps his arms around Kirin’s neck and clenches around him, shoving himself down on Kirin’s cock so eagerly that he is doing most of the work by himself. “Yes, of course- Anything, please, just- just _fucking_ fuck me already…”

And Kirin is a _gentleman_ , so of course he obliges. There are few things sweeter than the taste of blood that draws, sharp teeth digging into the tender flesh of Ridge’s shoulder and mouthing at the bruised skin as Ridge fucks himself silly. Oh, and it’s almost laughably simple, his for the taking; Kirin knows exactly how easy it is to unravel Ridge, yanking his head back as cruel fingers twist in his hair and force Ridge to look at him as he’s being ripped to pieces. All for the price of a meal, some instant gratification and the bitter-sweet chemical rush that he knows this man craves so much.

Oh, to forget.

“There we go,” Kirin praises, grinning sharply when Ridge lets out a guttural moan, eyes wild and unfocused as Kirin drags him closer and holds his chin in a vice-like grip. “Do you want this? Beg me for it, sunshine.”

Ridge shudders, a string of curses and desperate pleas falling from him as he lets Kirin fuck him until his eyes almost roll back in his head and Kirin knows he has him. Has had him for a long time, really; Ridge is not a difficult thing to play but oh, how he loves making him squirm with the electricity that runs through his veins until he is torn apart.

Kirin’s nails tear and claw at Ridge’s side as he climaxes – before Ridge, _obviously_ – and only loses a bit of his poise before he finally obliges and helps Ridge over the edge as well. He might like to play but he’s not _cruel,_ and the gratitude that oozes from Ridge as he sags against the broader man’s chest is something Kirin soaks up greedily. And when he holds up his hand he doesn’t even need to explain, a soft noise enough for Ridge to latch onto his hand and suck his fingers clean obediently.

“I can offer you even more than this, you know,” Kirin says as Ridge is struggling to get his shirt on again, brow furrowed in confusion and disappointment as his high fades away faster than ever and a migraine is digging its claws into the whore’s brain. “Someone as talented as you _deserves_ a little more, don’t you think?”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Ridge curses as he jams his elbow against the car door, growling in frustration before he finally turns to Kirin, blinking to focus through the haze and the smell of filth that starts to get a hold of him again. “I- what? You gonna pay me even more? Want another round? I can do that, just tell me-“

Kirin shushes him with a hand to his lips, smiling sweetly when Ridge swallows the rest of his words. And there is nothing _quite_ like that, the moment when he gets someone’s undivided attention; someone as filthy and desperate as Ridge hanging on his lips against better judgement.

“Not _quite_ what I meant,” Kirin smiles. “Although I will admit I have a hard time saying no to your talented mouth. But you know I always take care of _you,_ too. I can make sure that other people finally acknowledge those gifts of yours. Enough money to get yourself some new clothes, food- Everything you could ever want, in fact.”

“Bullshit,” Ridge says, but Kirin can almost taste the hesitation in his words. Because when someone is down in the gutters and has to beg and sell his body for even a few pennies, a promise like this one – a carefully spun tale filled with promises of _better, more,_ of no longer having to suffer at the cruel hands of fate – is a very tempting one. And oh, if Kirin knows anything better than most anyone else, it is temptation. And how to deal it out like a hand of cards, shuffling opportunities and _promises_ with practiced ease as he holds them up for Ridge to see.

To take.

“Quite the opposite,” Kirin says, taking Ridge’s chin again and smiling at the way Ridge shivers under his touch. “I can give you all of that, and more. For a small price, of course. But nothing that you haven’t already given me willingly.”

And besides, for someone like Ridge, something as incomprehensible and rotten as his soul isn’t exactly a prized possession worth protecting, if previous evidence is anything to go by.

Kirin studies Ridge’s expression like a hawk, his own eyes darkening and laughter escaping him when he sees Ridge shrink back and blink in confusion. _Now we’re getting somewhere, little thing._

“You- I don’t- What the _fuck_ , man,” Ridge says, rubbing his forehead as if that will be enough to chase away what he still thinks is a trick of the light. Shadow-tinged lies, something his brain makes up when the rush of his high fades away and everything seems to be buzzing with a new surge of need that is never far from the surface. “I don’t understand-“

“It’s quite simple,” Kirin explains gently, running his thumb over Ridge’s scruff as if he’s placating a skittish animal. “You trust me, don’t you? Let me take care of you, sunshine.” _Let me have you._

“I- Sure. Why the fuck not.” Ridge grins a little shakily, dragging whatever remains of his sanity and coherence into a mask of sorts as he leans into Kirin’s touch. Carefully ignoring whatever warning signs his brain half-heartedly provides him with in favour of golden promises, the haze still making every inch of him tingle as he runs his hands over Kirin’s thighs. Sloppy and greedy, something familiar in its desperation. Something he knows. “I’m all yours.”

“ _Excellent_ ,” Kirin breathes as he wraps his hand around, nails digging into the soft skin of Ridge’s neck as he pulls the other man close for a bruising, biting, _binding_ kiss. “We have a deal, then.”

-

Kirin has to admit that he likes watching Ridge work, even if it’s not quite as satisfying as seeing him kneel in front of him and putting his mouth where it is most useful. He never looks more beautiful than in those moments, after all; wrecked and desperate and utterly broken, begging for scraps that he knows only Kirin can provide for him. His own personal corner of hell where Kirin is more than willing to keep him company. But for now, Kirin is willing to wait.

He has settled down into a corner of the club, idly sipping on a drink that he is _sure_ should not be as expensive as it is because it tastes like cheap liquor and disappointment – but then, he’s not sure what he expected when he asked the obviously ignorant bartender for his _best_ drink. He’s well aware he’s not a familiar face here yet, even if he intends to change that.

He has time.

Quirking his lips in amusement Kirin watches Ridge throw one of the customers an easy grin, his hand pressed against the other man’s chest as his eyes light up in a way that surely would never pass for human if the recipient was any more coherent than he currently is. But the brunette watches slack-jawed as Ridge leans forward and whispers something in his ear, nodding numbly and licking his lips as he shoves Ridge a handful of money.

“Pleasure doing business,” Ridge says before turns around sharply, leaving the man breathless and mesmerized as he saunters over to Kirin. And his eyes never quite lose that fire, burning brightly and cutting through the smoky light of the club even as he leans forward to kiss Kirin’s cheek.

“I’m afraid those charms of yours won’t work on me, sunshine,” Kirin purrs, a kind smile hiding too-sharp teeth as he pats the empty space on the bench next to him lightly. “But I’m _sure_ you won’t mind keeping me company for a while anyway, will you? I am still a paying customer, after all.” _And you owe me so, so much, little thing._

Ridge pauses only for a second before nodding, his face relaxing into an easy grin as he slides next to Kirin and runs his fingers over Kirin’s arm briefly. Invitingly.

“Of course,” he replies, voice as smooth as silk. “Anything you want.”

 _Oh yes, anything,_ Kirin thinks as he lazily waves over a waiter to get them both something _proper_ to drink, not this tasteless, poor excuse for a wine. This is a moment for a proper vintage; after all, they have something to celebrate.

Well. _He_ does, anyway.


End file.
